


Right, Right

by sheafrotherdon



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: mcsmooch, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-20
Updated: 2008-08-20
Packaged: 2017-10-11 22:51:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John gives in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right, Right

This is what it feels like:

Scary. _Terrifying_. He's so close to Rodney he can see the moment his pupils blow wide, see the laugh-lines beside his eyes stretch and fade as Rodney registers surprise. There are odd silver hairs in Rodney's eyebrows, and if he glances – there – he can see oil smudged by Rodney's ear. Rodney's upper lip, his chin, they're darker than they were this morning, stubble pushing up through pale skin, and John wants to _touch_ , wants to drag his thumb along Rodney's jaw, and shit, that's fucking crazy, he's losing his mind, he's kept this locked down so tight for so fucking long, he can't be giving in now, _he can't_ , and yet . . . and yet.

Rodney waits, watches, and it's like being stripped down of everything safe, every protection, standing there, bearing that gaze. John feels Rodney's breath against his face and god, his heart's clattering in his chest like a mad thing and when he curls his fingers beneath Rodney's elbow he hopes Rodney has no idea it's because his hands are shaking. Rodney's breathing hard, watching him, _waiting_ , and John wants to shake him for his patience, now, right when he doesn't need it, wants it, when everything's too big and brash to swallow and twist into friendship anymore. He leans in, sees relief on Rodney's face in the second before their lips touch. Rodney's eyes flutter closed and then John's close too.

This is what it feels like: reckless, needed, dangerous. Rodney's lips are chapped and careful, but John's fucked if he's going to take this slow now he's given up the thirteen, fourteen kinds of pretense he's been working with for years. He pulls Rodney close – or pushes in closer, he's not sure he knows or that it matters anymore, and he grunts softly, gracelessly, sucks on Rodney's bottom lip and shudders when he feels the press of Rodney's tongue. His hands slide to Rodney's shoulder blades, pulling, pressing, and he tilts his head, mashes his nose into Rodney's cheek just like Rodney's mashing his nose into his, and god, Rodney's hand's at the back of his head, steadying him, guiding him, and it's so goddamn sure a gesture John has to pull back, panting, forehead to forehead, eyes still closed.

"So," Rodney says, and he sounds wrecked, fucked, shattered and _smug_ , and his fingers are pushing John's hair in the wrong direction, up from the back of his neck. "So, you – "

John doesn't have words – when the fuck has he had words? – so he tilts his head, presses his lips to Rodney's temple, leaves them there, shifts and fists his hands in Rodney's sleeves.

"Yeah," Rodney breathes, "Me too," and his fingers don't stop moving.

This is what it feels like: Right, so fucking right.


End file.
